X cop/X con

I currently working on a book based on lectures I have given on police corruption.  I was involved in a corruption case in the late 1980’s and subsequently sentenced to federal prison.

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poem, sin ella

“Sin Ella”
by Roberto Juarez

Besos como una bebida fuerte
Que pasa sobre los labios
Y calienta el pecho
Ojos hermosos que prometen,
Inspiran, aman, y tal vez mienten
Pasion y amor, la mujer latina
Que como las olas del mar
Que llegan y acarician la arena
Esas mismas olas
Que pueden romper la tierra con su furia
Asi es ella
Porque me acerco, por que la busco
Como el mar que atrae el marinero
Asi esa sangre, esa passion, esa mujer
Me atrae
Me acerco, la tomo en mis brasos
Se rinde
Loco pueda que soy
Porque correr el riesgo que me rompa el corazon
Porque solo esta mujer puede, amarme,
Me llena, me completa
Loco fuera sin ella

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Mi Pregunta

Mi pregunta

Que seria el dia sin el sol
Que seria la noche sin la luna y las estrellas
Que seria yo sin ti
Cual seria tu respuesta
Cual seria
No quiero saber
Solo quiero que sea asi como es
Y no como seria
By
Roberto Juarez

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new documentary featuring Roberto Juarez

for your information I am featured in a new documentary entitled “raised by the badge” producers are my sons, Nicholas Juarez and Michael Juarez. please go to Facebook.com/Raised by the badge. in post production now contact nic.caperfilmsla@gmail.com

 

 

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“Tristin”

“Tristin”

What can I tell you that hasn’t been told
So much to say now that I’m old
Taking your time growing, there is no rush
Play all you can and sleep as much
Read all you can, you’ll be surprised
What you will see beyond your eyes
Listen with your mind, but hear with your heart
Speak when you have to but always with thought
Always be ready to make a new friend
It maybe the friendship that never ends
Work is for all and all must work
Working on dreams is not really work
Dreams are for all, but all do not dream
Dreams have no limits, or so it seems
Dreams fill your mind with wonderful things
Learn how to dance and learn to sing
Learn how to make beautiful things
Learn to skate, instead of to hate
Never be angry for more than a minute
Laughing is better there is no limit
Mistakes you will make, but don’t hesitate
Mistake is the name of the steps you must take
To be the best that’s what it takes
Remember to pray and say thanks everyday
For all that you get and all that you kept
Learn to respect but never to fear
You’re never alone, God is near
Learn to love without any fear
Grandpa Robert

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“60’s”

60’s”

The fifties end, the sixties begin, now in High School I’m in
New books new friends, new studies, a medal I win
One year of football, we tried hard to win
My last two years, mostly a sin
A job, new clothes, money to spend
Friends get together, we pitch in
We have a few brews and go for a cruise
One party ends, another begins, they never end
Looking for the girl you’ll hold tonight
The locomotion, the swim, mash potato are in
Measuring success by who you caress
The slow dance ends the night, you hold her tight
Your friends in a fight, this ends the night
I hate to leave, I really can’t stay
The sirens are coming, they’re headed this way
I’ll write you a letter, remember this night
Words of love and devotion written on paper
On perfumed paper she replies, our love will not die
Waiting on Broadway for her to arrive
A vision of beauty walks by your side
The balcony in the theater is where you will hide
A kiss and a hug, expressions of love
Will we go all the way, I want you she smiles
We’ll be in trouble for ditching this day
I send you this letter to tell you good-bye
I’m joining the army, it may be my last
Two things I take, your love and your picture
Two things from the past, I hope it last
My son, my son what have you done
There is a war, they’ll give you a gun
My father cried for his wild son
I asked to go, the answer was no
Fort Ord it was, no further would I go
The job I was given, I did my best
My orders I followed with some regret
Sending my brothers, from Ord to hell
The look on their faces, all told a tale
Some no expression, others went pale
Some disbelief, others relief
All were but boys, to live the grief
Few I kept home, most I could not
Only the rich, controlled their lot
Rich daddy’s money found the right pockets
Gave life to their sons, away from the rockets
Men they came back, a story to tell
They tried to sleep, forget about hell
Screams of fright break the quiet of night
Sleep my brother; you’re home from the fight
My orders I followed, there seemed no end
A call to order, a medal I’d win
The nights that followed all a blur
Drinking and fighting, my self cure
Things I’ll remember and never forget
Canary row, white sands of Carmel
The sight of Big Sur, so fresh the smell
The hippies and gurus, who hated the guns
New places, new sights, not in Boyle Heights
The mama’s and the papa’s, Bob Dillon’s words
New music, new friends, a new world begins
The faces the places, and all of the sounds
New memories begin, this is how the sixties would end.
By
Roberto Juarez

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someone to hug

I wrote this for a very dear friend of mine, a bad beginning does not mean a bad end

“chiva is slang word for heroin”

A night of passion, a night of drugs

A child of love will not be loved

A little girl no place to sleep

A little girl no place to weep

The stranger’s come, the stranger’s go

The chiva makes them slow

The child grows up before her time

No one to say, “This child is mine”

She wipes her tears, she sheds her fears

No mother to kiss, no father to hug

Her children will get all her love

A home she builds and stands alone

Alone she grew, alone she stands

Courage now at her command

She is to one, I understand

The daughter that he never had

Roberto juarez

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